


where the rainbow ends.

by lannistering



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masks, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannistering/pseuds/lannistering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day swingers club AU for the yescon kink meme on lj!</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the rainbow ends.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [houselannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/houselannister/gifts).



> "Even in a crowd, they only look for each other."

They all wear masks and cloaks; Jaime can’t tell whether he should find the sight arousing or terrifying. The artificial stimulation he inhaled at the entrance stings through his skin and he knows it’s working; he feels more alive with every step. Bodies clutter the whole place, some naked and some half-strewn with cloth, none of their masks discarded. Each mask has a strange, ornate Italian Renaissance feel but that’s where the comparisons end. One looks like a toucan and another a fox; somehow Jaime knows Cersei will have a lion.

/She lacks subtlety, my sister./

Something beneath stirs at that but his pace does not quicken, instead Jaime takes a deliberate stroll through the rooms, none holding what he’s looking for. This was her idea; she gets off on it. Cersei likes to be reminded that everyone wants her, that out of a swarm of people she’s still preferred. She likes to know the same of him as well.

Jaime sees breasts, legs, and ass wherever he looks but none of them make him pause more than momentarily. They aren’t the golden locks and milky white skin that he’s seeking.

Three rooms in he finds them, her cloak strewn open to bare a creamy thigh. No less than four of them paw at her, one a woman. Cersei looks as if she’s bathing in their desire, laying and soaking up the power it shoots into her veins, the gratification she needs. He’s never seen her look more like a goddess but there’s a crinkle in her brow, the slightest stain of worry on her perfection. Her grip on her wine goblet doesn’t flinch when one of them sweeps his thumb on her ankle but her lips part and Jaime’s suddenly very jealous that they can give her that satisfaction.

Even in a room full of naked bodies he sees nothing else but her and when he exhales their eyes meet.

“Madame,” he extends a hand once the room no longer stands between them, noticing the furrow in her brow has since vanished. For a moment Jaime wonders if they notice their hair and eyes have the same shade but doesn’t care, in fact he feels another twitch in his cock at the thought. /They won’t say anything here, they can’t./

Cersei rises from the onlookers, floating with a natural grace that is matched only by his. Now the space she leaves behind looks like a tangled mess, not the flowing mass of limbs that had once been a sight to behold. The glare she shoots over his shoulder tells him there’s a woman dawdling behind and he smirks, his nose on her jaw in an instant. She smells like wine and cloves and a hint of lavender, her cloak now draped open in shameless self-confidence.

Without another beat she leads him into the next room, currently unoccupied despite the set-up of velvet furniture and candles. They don’t get very far, a step or two before she has him against the wall, green eyes flickering through her mask. “You took your time,” Cersei remarks, clearly a bit suspicious about it. Jaime neglects to remind her that this was her idea, it always is, but instead sends an equally accusatory remark her way. “You looked entertained.” She isn’t half amused as he is; she’s not amused at all actually. One curl of her sculpted calf against his and Jaime knows to swing her up in his grasp, her legs barely having time to meet his hips before they’ve met the couch.

He still sees them fondling her, fingers twisting into her flesh and pressing, causing her indirect and momentary ecstasy. The image burnt onto the back of his lenses only goes away when he kisses her and out of habit they waste no time. There’s not much separating them anyway, only a few layers of silk, only seconds before she’ll be moaning in his arms.

Cersei finds the greatest satisfaction in the fact that no one will want her as irrevocably as Jaime.

Her hips arch against him and his length appears from beneath the cloak in a way that forces her to take one plump, scarlet lip between her teeth. /You could have waited,/ he wants to say, but he knows that’s not the point. That would ruin all her fun.

Instead he focuses on the lust in her gaze, the unadulterated jealousy he feels radiating off her. They’re both lost in a heated mess of emotions, jumbling together and only satisfied when he slips a finger into her wet warmth. One foot she slings over his shoulder and Jaime groans at how easily it seems to come to her, only allowing a smirk once he’s picked up his pace and her moans go uncontained. They echo through the room, repeating over and over again, a litany of her need for him.

In a flick of his wrist he has a thumb on her clit, curling his finger inside with a shudder on her part. “Now,” she demands, her voice throaty and seductive. He fits inside her the way it’s always been: perfect. The arc of his body slides against her like one smooth puzzle piece, colliding in slick, fluid thrusts that shed all of his reservations. It’s just them, her legs bent over his shoulders and nails embedded in his scalp.

Before long another couple joins them. Jaime pays them not so much as a blink but she tugs his head in their direction, both landing dilated eyes on the distinctly male pair. One’s got a flower on the corner of his mask, bent over the covered piano by a horned stranger. /No names/, he remembers when she flexes her muscles around him, spurring Jaime to heave her up and against the nearby wall. From there he won’t last long, they both know, the friction alone would get to him even if he didn’t feel the eyes baring into his back.

So it’s a hushed, mumbled, and muffled chorus of “Baby,” that finds them in their last moments, her legs trembling and his tense from the effort. They attain bliss in each other’s mouths and the juncture of their legs where they’re one; even their groans and orgasms are matched.

Once their breaths slow and he can no longer feel her heart pumping against his chest, Jaime relinquishes his hold on her and they cast a glance at the other set of lovers. It’s certainly a sight but not one that keeps him long, instead allowing her to guide him out of the place by his hand. They only shed their masks once they’ve dressed and found the long black stretch vehicle waiting for them.


End file.
